


Lessons in Getting Carried Away

by Dajra



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Chapter 2 is M!Byleth, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, M/M, One Shot Collection, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Prompt Fill, Rough Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22022998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dajra/pseuds/Dajra
Summary: Prompt fills for #claudelethnsfw week. A series of Claude and Byleth getting lost in each other.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 15
Kudos: 109





	1. Prompt 1: Grasp my...

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt Day 1: Grasp my...
> 
> Byleth tries to give Claude sword lessons. Claude has other ideas.

Claude had a healthy dose of pride in his ability to draw people into playing into his hand, no matter if it was in a game of chess or a verbal debate. His airs were that of a man who performed such ploys with an effortless ease, masking the hours of research he could put in to some of his bigger schemes.  
  
This however, was not one of those bigger schemes—or really anything worthy of the name “scheme” at all. It all really boiled down to a simple desire.  
  
Claude wanted to be touched.  
  
Sure, he could just ask to be touched, and he was sure his request would be fulfilled immediately. But sometimes the game was just as fun as the reward.  
  
The frustrated huff of air Byleth gave him was almost enough to break his easy smile into honest laughter—but he held himself together, looking at her with all the innocence he could muster.  
  
“Claude. I know we’ve gone through these drills several times, especially during your academy days. You know how to hold a sword without the risk of having your wrist broken.” Annoyance laced her tone, and Claude had to look away to keep himself from chuckling at the frown on her face. He twirled the sword in his hand, grip purposely loose.

“And _I_ believe when I mentioned wanting some practice that it had been a while since I’ve found myself needing swordplay in battle.” Claude raises the blade in his hand to return to the stance they had been working on—keeping his arms a _tad_ too low, his back a _little_ too straight, and his knees _much_ too close together. “Can you blame a man for needing a refresher course?”  
  
“You could at least take it seriously, then.” Byleth sheathes her own weapon, closing the space between them. Her hands grip his arm, pulling one elbow up before tugging the other down. She steps behind him—and he can hardly keep the satisfied smirk off his face when her front presses against his back, using her own knees to press his into place. Her hands push his shoulders forward before reaching up to resituate his wrists. “Push your weight forward and keep your knees bent to prevent being knocked back. Your grip should be firm so your opponent won’t knock your weapon out of your hands.”  
  
With her hands at his wrists, she guided his swing down—and the quip that had been sitting on his tongue since this idea had first bloomed in his mind finally forced its way out of him.  
  
“You sure know how to work a sword don’t you, By?”  
  
Her movements immediately freeze at his words, and his barely contained laughter threatened to burst from his lips as her eyes shot to his with first a look of shock—then, exasperation.  
  
“That was awful.” She moves to straighten but Claude follows her movements, pressing himself firmly against her chest. Her hands leave his wrists—but don’t stray far, resting on his shoulders. “If you wanted me close, you could just ask.”

“What do you mean? Don’t you like a little roleplay once in a while, _Teach_?” The grin he gives her is all teeth, eyeing her over his shoulder. “Have I ever mentioned that you look stunning when you’re frustrated?”

Byleth leveled his expression with a withering glare, which Claude accepted with pride. “Have I told you that you can be a brat?”  
  
“Not today, at least.”  
  
She huffs a sigh before replying to Claude by slamming an elbow into the crook of his arm, the sudden movement ripping his hands from the sword. Byleth twists, shoving him back with a grip on his arm and a shoulder against his chest. It’s only the span of a blink of an eye before he’s pushed against a wall in the back of the training hall, both wrists locked under her grasp.

A knee presses against the hardness quickly growing in his breeches, her free hand forcing his head up with a grip on his jaw—yet the smile on his face still was akin to that of a cat catching a mouse.  
  
“Are you looking to be _punished_ , Claude?”  
  
“Depends on the punishment.” He punctuates the statement by moving his hips, rubbing himself against her thigh.  
  
There’s another sigh from her, but Claude catches her fond smile before her face dips out of view, the softness of her lips against his neck coaxing a shudder up his spine. “You’re ridiculous.”

He hums contentedly when her hand moves from his jaw to drag a finger down his neck, letting her fingers catch in the laces of his thin training shirt. His voice is a pitch lower, turning his head to press his words against her hair. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Byleth rolls her eyes at him as she pulls away from his neck, but does nothing to hide her smile. “Only because I think you’re cute like this.” She leans in to capture his lips, a groan breathed against her mouth when her hand snakes past his waistband. His hips buck towards her touch, and it’s her turn for her smile to stretch into something impish.

Calloused fingers encircle his cock, keeping him caught in a firm grasp as she begins to pump the length in a steady rhythm. Eager kisses capture the moans and heaving breaths Claude rewards her ministrations with.

His groans of pleasure turn to one of frustration when she pulls her hand away much too soon—but the frustration is quickly dissolved away with her clear, tinkling laughter.

“You’re also cute when you're frustrated.” Byleth runs two fingers across his lips, and he draws them into his mouth with a wry smile, letting his tongue swirl around them.

She retrieves her fingers, and Claude’s moan is nothing but relief when she wraps her hand around his cock once more, the saliva on her fingers only serving to help the glide of her stokes.

Claude might have been embarrassed about how quickly she was able to bring him undone with just her hand...if it wasn’t such a blissful way to go. It only takes her thumb roughly smearing the precum at the head of his cock before his hips jerk forward, spilling into her hand.

Byleth presses kisses against his jaw as he comes down from his high, letting her hand drop from his wrists—but as soon as he’s free he pulls her against him and spins, trapping her against the wall.

Claude’s hands find her hips, pulling her roughly against his thigh. It’s his turn again to chuckle at the pleased hum that leaves her lips—one which quickly transforms into a moan as he drags her back down, firmly rubbing her heated folds.

“I think sword practice is over for now.” It’ll be the last words he can muster for a while as they both quickly find themselves lost in each other, mouths too busy with tongues and skin to worry about conversation.


	2. Prompt 2: Near religious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt Day 2: Near religious
> 
> Claude could find himself getting behind a religion that has Byleth dressed like this.
> 
> M!Byleth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> INTSYS robbed me of m!Byleth's bare chest in the Sothis Regalia, so I'm here to rectify that.

When Byleth had mentioned Rhea presenting him with finery that had been famed to once belonged to the very Goddess that now resided completely within him, Claude wasn’t sure what he was expecting.

But whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t this.

“The Goddess seems to have...a particular sort of taste, doesn’t she?”

He can see the echoes of what adorned the current leadership in the regalia—the deep blues, the interwoven gold designs and molded motifs. However, the outfit that Byleth currently wore...left much less to the imagination than that of the modern church he had come to know.

A look of consideration breaks through the overwise blank slate of Byleth’s expression, the slight raise of a brow relaying his deliberation. “I recall it looking less out of place on her.” Byleth turns, granting Claude a view of the low cut of the back of the outfit, a generous expanse of skin only broken up by a gold clasp. 

He can’t help the appreciative whistle that leaves his lips.

“That’s not to say it’s a bad look on you.” Claude meets Byleth’s eyes as he turns back around, offering a smile. “Just not what I expected from a goddess.”

A smile is given in return that makes Claude’s heart skip a beat, Byleth taking a step towards where Claude sat on the edge of the bed. But there’s a pause in his trek as one of the ribbons he had attempted to lace in his hair slips out, fluttering to the ground. The grunt of annoyance Byleth gives only makes Claude chuckle, and he ushers the other man to him with a wave of his hand.

“Let me help you with that.” Mint hair is obediently leaned toward him, the ribbon passed to Claude for him to braid back in. 

A finger is run through the existing braid to brush out any lingering twists before the pink and white ribbons are twisted into the strands of hair. The action of braiding is such a practiced motion from Claude’s youth that it allows his eyes to wander, now able to appreciate the outfit up close.

The braided gold ropes make a neat web over Byleth’s chest, leading his eyes down to the tease of pectoral muscles before they’re obscured by the cinching of blue fabric. The gold ornament that lays below covers most of his abs—a real shame, Claude finds himself thinking. But the line of the tassel only draws his eyes lower, to the healthy helping of exposed thighs that were barely contained in the shorts he wore.

Claude wasn’t lying earlier; it was a very good look on him.

“What is on your mind, Claude?” The voice nearly startles Claude, breaking him from his reverential train of thought. Byleth’s face is openly curious, seemingly unaware of the enchantment that he had cast.

But Claude merely chuckles, a soft smile only reserved for when the two of them were alone gracing his lips. “Nothing much.” He ties the braid securely before letting a hand drift down one of Byleth’s arms, catching the long ribbon that hung from his wrists in his fingers.

“I was just thinking...seeing something like this could probably make me a convert.” Claude lets the ribbon slide against his palm before he brings it up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against the fabric as his gaze flits back to Byleth’s. 

The difference is slight, but Claude still is pleased to see the smallest turn of his lips, a rosy hue peppering Byleth’s cheeks. He tilts his head up as Byleth leans down, skin brushing against each other in a sweet kiss. It’s not long though before Claude finds himself wanting more, the cogs in his mind turning as his smile grows wider.

Hands on hips shroud in royal blues, Claude coaxes Byleth back a few steps, sliding down from the bed. “Believers tend to worship on their knees, right?” Claude fingertips brush against the warm skin of Byleth’s calves, delighting in the way it draws a soft gasp from his lover.

Tan hands contrast wonderfully against creamy white thighs as Claude lets his palms rub firmly up Byleth’s legs, stopping when his fingers touch the edge of shorts. 

Their eyes meet—a question in Claude’s that Byleth answers with a sigh of his name.

It’s all the permission Claude needs before he’s on his knees proper, pressing a kiss to the jut of Byleth’s hip while fingers hook into the band of his shorts. A trail of kisses follow the drag of the fabric down his legs—and teeth chase a shudder back up.

Claude lets the tips of his fingers run up the underside of Byleth’s cock, pressing his lips against the head as he coaxes it to hardening. The moan he earns when his hot tongue licks a stripe up from base to tip is reward enough to entice Claude to circle his lips around the head, his own pleased hum joining the sounds Byleth makes as his tongue swirls around it.

Byleth’s hands tangle in Claude’s hair as he’s drawn in deeper to that hot mouth, musing the slicked locks. It’s Claude who moans proper when Byleth’s hips jerk forward to chase the growing pleasure—and it’s Claude who finds himself locked in Byleth’s gaze, the lust and adoration there enough to bring heat to his face.

He keeps his eyes on Byleth as the other man takes control, gently fucking into his mouth with steady thrusts, lips parting in small gasps everytime his cock hits the back of Claude’s throat. 

Claude does his best to provide as much pleasure as he can—letting his tongue press firmly against the member with every thrust, swallowing against head every time Byleth’s movements stutter, humming vibrations against the length as he encourages Byleth on. His fingers dig into Byleth’s thighs as the movements quicken, the gasps and moans reaching a crescendo that Claude is familiar with, heralding the end of Byleth’s control.

It only takes a few more unsteady jerks for Byleth to reach that peak, cum flooding Claude’s throat as the hands in his hair pull and twist involuntarily. It’s swallowed without issue, more pleased hums rumbling in Claude’s chest as Byleth rides out his high.

Claude pulls away from Byleth’s cock when he feels the grip on his hair loosen, that small smile reserved for these moments back on his lips. He rises to his feet, pulling Byleth closer to press more kisses against his lips.

When Byleth’s breath has returned to him, Claude chuckles. “That was probably blasphemous, wasn’t it?”

Byleth gives him a fond smile of his own, running a thumb across Claude’s cheeks. “If you talk like that, we won’t be able to do anything like that anymore—considering she’s a part of me now.” Soft laughter is shared between them as Byleth guides Claude back to the bed, straddling his lap as Claude sits back down. “We can just say this is your own personal kind of worship.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tend to write a lot of f!Byleth because that's how I gotta play the game to get with Claude, but I love Claude with m!Byleth equally as well! 
> 
> Day 3 may or may not be late depending on how my New Year's Eve goes, but we'll see! Thanks for reading!
> 
> You can find me sobbing uncontrollably about Claude on twitter @spotfast !


	3. Prompt 3: Not a feast if you don't eat too much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt Day 3: Not a feast if you don't eat too much.
> 
> Byleth thinks she has the upper hand, but Claude has always been resourceful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late, but Happy New Years everyone! Day 4 and 5 will probably be posted tomorrow as I still have some New Years left to celebrate!

It had been a quick discovery in their relationship that they both had a competitive streak, no matter if it was in a game of wits or in the bedroom. Sometimes control would be relinquished easily, becoming lost in the ministrations one would give the other.  
  
Sometimes—like today—it seemed that they both had something to prove in the control they had strived for.  
  
Right now Byleth had the upper hand, and she would do anything to make Claude admit defeat and let her treat him as she wished. They both had been stripped of most of their clothes, Byleth completely bare, but Claude—  
  
—well, she had found a way to repurpose his cravat for her own needs.  
  
It was a good look on him. Arms bound behind his back with the white fabric twisted around his forearms and forcing his heaving chest forward, sat in the chair at his desk with piles of important documents and letters long pushed to the ground. His face shone in the lamplight, the product of her cunt being pressed against him multiple times, that talented tongue of his working her to the peak of pleasure over and over again. Byleth nearly glowed with her satisfaction, body a pleasant tingle of nerves.  
  
Claude in contrast, had grown more and more tense, all the hard ridges of his body primed to snap—if only he was allowed to.  
  
The side of her foot runs up a bicep, keeping Claude caged between her legs as they rested on the arms of his chair. Her smile is full of sweetness as she looks down at him from her perch on his desk, her words a gentle coo. “You know what to say, Claude.”  
  
The crooked smile he gives in return is strained, the haze of lust in his eyes marring his attempt at being casual. “Are you expecting me to bow out before the main course is served—” Claude words cut off in a hiss, the lightest touch of her knuckles brushing against his straining erection and choking the breath from his lungs. He had been on the edge for over an hour, and even the air being disturbed around his aching cock when she moved was enough for him to bite the inside of his cheek against the pleading words she wished to hear from him.  
  
Her touch leaves him much too quickly as it has time and time again. Instead she lets her fingers run up his jaw, humming at the pleasant scratch of his beard against her skin. “You are being quite stubborn today, Claude.”  
  
An arch of a brow is given in reply, the frustration shining through Claude’s newest attempt at a smile. “And you’re being a little cruel, my love.”  
  
Byleth shakes her head with an airy laugh, letting her hands slide further around him to tangle in his hair. “I would say I’ve been very kind.” She pulls him forward, spreading her legs further to accommodate his head being pushed between her thighs. “You’ve been treated to a feast, haven’t you?”  
  
A sigh leaves her as Claude obediently begins to lap at her cunt, nosing her clit before wrapping his lips around it. She can’t help being impressed that he seems to have lost no fervor in eating her out no matter how many times he had already done it this night alone. Her hands tug in his hair, breathing praises and moans of pleasure to the ceiling as her head tilts back, body arching against the near-electric shocks spreading throughout her body.  
  
His tongue teases her folds, lashes at her clit, drives into her in a way that always steals the air from her lungs. Her toes curl, heels digging into his back as he works her up once again with devotion in his movements.  
  
All too soon she pulls away, resisting the twist of ecstasy in her stomach as he brought her so close to her orgasm. Despite her own want, she shoves the chair back, giving herself room to slide down from her perch. “Maybe I should come back later.” Byleth ignores the open look of shock on Claude’s face, turning to pick her clothes off the desk. “Perhaps that would give you time to—”  
  
The sudden hook of a heel at her ankle takes her by surprise, barely able to catch herself as she lurches toward the desk. But the momentary loss of balance is all that Claude needs to pin her against the wood, trapping her arms underneath her as the full weight of his body renders her unable to wriggle free. She turns her head as much as she can manage, catching the glint of a toothy smile dipping toward her neck.  
  
“You didn’t think a single cravat would be enough to completely restrain me, did you?” There’s no masking the smug victory in his tone, a gasp pulled from her lungs as teeth tug her earlobe. Even without the use of his arms, Claude manages to hitch one of her thighs up on the desk using his own, trapping it there with his hip.  
  
A rough jerk of his cock against her over-sensitive folds draws another gasp from her, closing her eyes at the rush of pleasure shooting down her spine. Her attempts to dislodge herself from underneath him grow weaker with every new thrust of his hips, his cock teasing against her cunt—and the ache of wanting to be filled by him dulls her urge to struggle.  
  
“You know,” Claude’s words are rasped against the skin of her neck, a groan of his own interrupting his words as he gives another thrust against her, “we could set aside our differences and do something enjoyable for both of us, Byleth…”  
  
Another rough jerk dissolves her resolve, and a whine of his name is all the confirmation Claude needs. He tilts his body enough to allow her to free one arm, her hand shooting between her legs to line his cock up against her.  
  
As soon as he’s able to press inside of her, his weight crushes her back against the desk and leaves her unable to do anything but moan as he starts to fuck into her in earnest. The bite of the wood against her hips is a sweet distraction to the punishing pace he sets, cock hitting _oh so deep_ inside of her with every powerful pounding thrust of his body.  
  
There was no chance in either of them lasting long—his tongue and lips had just brought her to the precipice moments ago, and he had been dangling at the edge for an age. Claude plummets first, spilling deep inside of her as she follows close behind.  
  
Both of them struggle to draw breath as they remained slumped over the desk, twitching and tingling in the aftermath. It’s Claude to break the silence once their heated bodies begin to cool, a pitiful edge played in his tone.  
  
“It was much easier to get down without the use of my arms than it is to get up...”  
  
His words surprise laughter out of Byleth, wiggling free of him proper as he does his best to tilt his weight off of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will have to pull my hc for Claude with an oral fixation out of my cold, dead hands!!! The best place he can be is between someone's thighs imo.
> 
> Again, I'll probably post day 4 and 5 tomorrow--because 5 is already written, but I don't know if I'll have time to finish day 4 tonight. Sorry for the delay!
> 
> You can find me sobbing uncontrollably about Claude on twitter @spotfast !


	4. Prompt 4: You've become quite expressive, haven't you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt Day 4: You've become quite expressive, haven't you?
> 
> Claude muses on the changes his former professor has gone through over the years.

It was hard for Claude to understand how there could still be people who found the mercenary-turned-Professor to be emotionless after all these years. The rumors always flitted around the most with the new recruits, who had never been face to face with Byleth.   
  
The noble houses would always bring with them word of Rhea’s successor, a woman who exudes such a level of calm that it was almost frightening, as if she was casting judgement on them all in the name of the Goddess. The common folk typically brought legends of a woman who had been known as the _Ashen Demo_ n, cutting down those who would stand in her way with no hint of remorse or elation on her face.   
  
All of them agreed that she was a woman who was better to have on your side than against you, lest you find yourself facing the tip of her blade.  
  
Five years ago Claude would have understood the misgivings—in fact, he would probably sympathized with them, finding the church’s newest faculty member to be the hardest puzzle he had faced yet. He had poked, prodded, coerced and teased their new _Teach_ , determined to find any crack in that stone-faced armor.  
  
(Though in retrospect, it was never truly an armor—more of a side-effect of her inexperience with emotions, and now Claude felt like an _ass_ that he couldn’t spot the truth of the matter though his general distrust.)  
  
But time had long since passed since you would be hard pressed to get more than a blink from her, and whatever had held her expressions hostage had slowly melted away.  
  
Granted her emotions didn’t display themselves like Raphael, who’s boisterous laughter could be heard from across the monastery. Or Lorenz, whose face would turn the most interesting shade of purple when Claude suggested a scheme _just_ to goad him into indignation.   
  
Hers were much more muted, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. They were in the upturn of her lips when she watched Lysithea eat a cake after a month of sugar rations, or the crinkle of her brow when she tried to listen to one of Alois’s jokes. They could be seen in long gazes she would cast over battlefields, or in the way she would pour over maps deep into the night.  
  
If you were lucky, you could even hear them in her laughter.  
  
Claude treasured every glimpse she allowed them, every ripple in the otherwise calm lake of her visage filed away as snapshots of her in his mind. And every time he could coax those smiles himself, draw laughter from her lungs—even looks of exasperation with his jokes were all his own little personal victories.  
  
His favorite moments however were when the two of them found themselves alone, with no thoughts of war looming over their heads or appearances to be upheld.   
  
When they could just be Claude and Byleth.  
  
It was by far the most expressive he had seen her. They had already laid bare their dreams and fears to each other, any walls between them reduced to dust. She shared her emotions freely during these moments, and Claude was her eager audience. The range she could show him without a single word could put Embarr’s greatest actors to shame.   
  
Soft touches would elicit sighs from her, sweet kisses coaxing breathy laughs when he would move away from her mouth to more sensitive expanses of skin. Then there was the way she would desperately grip his shirt, hands twisting in the fabric—or other times tangled in his hair, dragging him impossibly closer.  
  
Though even those honeyed displays of emotion were put to shame by the ones that would grace her face when he got his hands on her proper. The way she would toy with her bottom lip when his fingers dragged down her body, the flutter of her eyelashes when calloused palms ran over her nipples.   
  
And the cream of the crop—the way her brows would ease from furrowed to serene when his fingers would dip lower to tease over her folds, playing her like a musician would an instrument. It was his greatest joy to cause her jaw to drop when he would push inside of her, the sight of her lips forming an ‘o’ never ceasing to cause his heart to skip a beat.  
  
Claude drank up those expressions like they were the finest of wines, chasing her pleasure more than his just for another taste. Perhaps is why he became so easily tangled in her, eager to see what new faces he could tempt.  
  
Even if his favorite expressions came from time spent in private, it never seemed to lessened the lightness in his heart she brought with every simple smile she offered, every interaction he could catch a glimpse of as she roamed the monastery where she seemed to truly open up with those around her.  
  
After all, everyone should see how expressive she had become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This became more of a free-form kinda thing of Claude just being smitten with Byleth instead of actually super NSFW, but I like `em soft, what can I say.
> 
> Sorry for being late! The holidays had me drained from all the social interaction so I needed a few days to decompress. The next prompt is actually the first prompt I wrote, so that should be up tomorrow after I proof it one last time! 
> 
> As for the last two prompts...I do plan on finishing all 7 prompts (even though the last two are just free choice), but I have a convention coming up that I really need to sew for, so they will be when my life has finally settled back down. Thanks for your patience, and thanks for reading up to this point!
> 
> You can find me sobbing uncontrollably about Claude on twitter @spotfast !


	5. Prompt 5: No way I'm letting you go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt Day 5: No way I'm letting you go
> 
> Claude and Byleth try to unwind before a meeting, but their friends are on the hunt for them.

“Claude!”  
  
If his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, he would have groaned as Lorenz’s voice broke the relative stillness of the room.  
  
However, he had been attending to more important things—namely coaxing more breathless sighs out of his former professor with firm strokes of his tongue—so the most he can manage at the interruption was a furrow of his brows, shooting a glare at the light flooding through the crack of the door. He had suggested they move to the closet as a precaution, a mere bargain to assuage any lingering hesitation she might have held against a quick tryst so soon before a meeting. Claude didn’t expect for it to _actually_ be a necessity.   
  
“If you’re so sure that Claude is hiding from you, then why do you expect him to be in his office, of _all_ places?” That voice is undeniably Hilda’s, which does bring a displeased grumble to his chest. Was the whole class planning on barging in next?   
  
Claude shifts his weight, making a move to push himself up—but the hand in his hair tightens, keeping him in place. His eyes flick up, meeting Byleth’s. Even in the dim of the space he can read the flutter of her eyelashes, the way she toys with her bottom lip as she urges him deeper into the apex of her thighs with a tug to his hair.   
  
Honestly, even Lorenz ripping the closet door off its hinges couldn’t stop Claude from obliging her.   
  
“I was _trying_ to give him the benefit of the doubt, thinking that he might be here preparing for our meeting, but it seems that I have once again misplaced my trust!” Claude barely registers the words as he readjusts the thigh on his shoulder, mouthing Byleth’s clit as he reaches up to press two fingers inside of her.   
  
His reward is immediate—a shuddering breath leaves her lung and her free leg trembles, pressing herself against his hand. A smile pulls at his lips when her inner walls clench around his fingers as he curls them _just so_ , rubbing eagerly against the spot he knows drives her to the edge of pleasure.   
  
“Well, he’s obviously not here right now, so can we just drop the search already? Claude will only let himself be found if he wants to.”   
  
Claude grips her hip with his free hand when he begins to double his efforts, tongue circling around her clit and thrusting his fingers up against that spot over and over again, hearing the telltale hitch in her breathing that she’s close.   
  
“Ugh, I suppose if we must. He could at least have the decency to keep his office in order! Must he throw his papers all over the place?”   
  
It only takes a few more jerks of his hands before she unravels around him, her back pressed hard against the wall as her body arches against the pleasure, ragged pants filling the air. Claude obediently laps up the slick around his fingers, working her through her orgasm until he feels her body slump.   
  
He removes his fingers just as the door to his office clicks closed once more, the insistent tugging of his hair urging him to his feet. Byleth wastes no time weaving both her hands into his hair, tangling the already mussed locks to bring his mouth to hers to press her tongue past his lips in a hungry kiss.   
  
When they break apart for a gasp of air, Byleth is quick to cup his jaw, rubbing her thumbs against his beard. “Your turn.”   
  
Claude breathes a chuckle, letting his hands run up her stomach. “I’m not as good as keeping quiet as you are if someone else decides to interrupt us.”   
  
He’s forced to bite back a groan as her hand dips past his waistband to palm his erection, wrapping her fingers around his cock without preamble.   
  
She presses a smile against his lips. “I guess it’s time to practice, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I got the 5 original prompts done! Like I said, I'm planning on still writing 2 more prompts for fun even if they're just free choice, but it'll probably be at least a month before I get time to write again. 
> 
> But thanks for reading up to this point, and I hope you enjoyed them!
> 
> You can find me sobbing uncontrollably about Claude on twitter @spotfast !


End file.
